


Tell Me You Don't Fantasize About Me

by ColetheWolf



Series: Unrated Scenes That Were Cut From The Show [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom Derek, Dirty Talk, M/M, Rough Sex, Top!Stiles, bottom!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 23:31:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColetheWolf/pseuds/ColetheWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek stumbles onto a stash of porno magazines in Stiles bedroom while they wait for Danny to come over and trace a text. One thing leads to another and Derek gladly bottoms out for Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me You Don't Fantasize About Me

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to go back and write fics as little in-between scenes from Teen Wolf episodes. This is following the plot-line of episode 1x09 "Wolfs Bane"

“I’m very proud.” Sheriff Stilinski says smiling at Stiles. His son is going to play his very first Lacrosse game after being on the bench for the entirety of the past two seasons. It sure is something to be proud over. 

“Uh, me too…again. I’m—“ Stiles awkwardly mumbles out, leaning against the outside of his bedroom door trying to draw attention away from the fact that Derek Hale was hiding in his bedroom. Stiles juts forward to meet his father in a tender hug. They share a few pats on the back, but Stiles just wants to hurry their friendly conversation to an end.

“Huggie….huggie huggie.” Stiles mutters quietly under his breath adding to the awkwardness in the hallway. The hug ends leaving Sheriff slightly puzzled to why his son was acting in such a bizarre manner. Who knows? Stiles was just being Stiles.

“See ya there.” Sheriff finishes before walking downstairs and leaving to take care of his errands.

“Take it easy!” Stiles blurts out quickly, excited that his father was finally leaving and that the risk of his dad finding a fugitive in his room was completely erased from possibilities. Stiles lets out a loud, relieved sigh before heading back into his room. He gets only a second to close his bedroom door before Derek is hauling him against it.

“If you say one word…” Derek begins in a threat while he pushes Stiles’ back harder into the wooden door.

“Oh what? You mean like, hey dad…Derek Hale’s in my room. Bring your gun?” Stiles retorts, watching Derek’s face shift into a softer glare. “Yeah that’s right. If I’m harboring your fugitive ass, it’s my house, my rules buddy.” Stiles hits Derek’s shoulder in a hard tap asserting his authority over the situation. 

Slight fear shoots through Stiles’ body once he realizes that he just hit Derek Hale. It wasn’t hard contact, but it was still a hit. What even possessed him to actually think he was allowed to do that? “I’m so fucking dead.” Stiles thinks to himself as he watches Derek.

Derek just looks down to where the teen tapped his shoulder, then looks back at Stiles and nods silently in agreement to what Stiles said. He removes his tight grip Stiles’ shirt and fixes the teen’s jacket.

Stiles lets out a breath of relief and snickers at the acknowledgement that Derek isn’t as scary as he seems. He fixes Derek’s jacket in a smug fashion before walking towards his computer desk. As Stiles walks by, Derek lunges forward in just one last attempt to frighten the teen. It works, but nevertheless, Stiles had power of the situation. 

“Oh. My God…” Stiles trails off as he sits down at his computer desk and sighs.

“Scott didn’t get the necklace?” Derek asks, his hands casually in his leather jacket pockets as he stares to Stiles for an answer.

“No. He’s still working on it. But there’s something else we can try…” Stiles pauses for dramatic effect and Derek steps forward awaiting a further explanation. “The night we were trapped at the school, Scott sent a text to Allison asking her to meet him there.”

“So?” Derek questioned looking confused.

“So it wasn’t Scott.” Stiles explains.

“So can you find out who sent it?” Derek asks, getting more interested in conversation to some extent.

“No. Not me,” Stiles stops speaking and turns his chair so that he’s facing his computer. “But I think I know someone who can.” He finishes as he starts typing in an open online chat interface.

“Quit it with the confusing pieces of information. Either explain the whole plan, or don’t speak at all.” Derek orders while taking off his jacket and throwing it to the floor. 

“My friend Danny knows how to trace a text. If I can convince him to do it… then we’ll have our mystery texter.” Stiles explains as he types an instant message to Danny.

[Dude, you’re still coming over for lab work right?]

Stiles skims over the message in a proofread as quick as he can before he’s pressing send. He taps eagerly around his laptop desktop awaiting a message back. It says Danny is online, so it shouldn’t be long for Danny to reply back.

[Yeah. I’ll be over soon. I need to pick up some books from Jackson’s so give me about 30 minutes.] 

Stiles jumps in excitement when the message pops up on his screen with an alert tone.

“Okay, he’ll be over here in about 30 minutes…so we—“Stiles begins as he turns his chair to look over at Derek who is snooping through a pile of ‘Stiles Time’ magazines that Stiles had placed strategically behind the headboard of his bed. Stiles jumps up from the chair and rushes over to Derek.

“What the hell are you doing?! Did I say ‘my house, my rules’ and also you can go ahead and snoop through my personal shit?! Do werewolves respect private things and or personal space?” Stiles yells, flailing his arms trying to get the magazines from Derek’s clutches.

“’Beefy Bottoms’...’Spank Bank 101’…’Older Hunks’…” Derek reads the titles of the three magazines he holds in his hands with a smirk. “Is this the kind of shit these companies make profit off nowadays? By the looks of the titles, these can’t be very good.” Derek laughs and opens the magazine “Beefy Bottoms” to a page that’s slightly folded at its corner.

The page is a spread sheet, plastered with pictures of a guy apparently named “Ridge”. The guy is medium build, with jet black hair, a nice tan, and very sharp cheekbones complete with stubble. A grand total of eight pictures depict Ridge sucking other guys off, multiple guys at once. Most of them are of Ridge getting completely owned by other guys.

“So…Ridge,” Derek begins and looks up from the magazine to raise an eyebrow at Stiles before looking back down. “Six foot one feet tall, 7 ½ inches cut, power bottom…” Derek laughs slightly then looks at Stiles. 

“How did you even find that? I seriously put a lot of thought to where I hid it.” Stiles asks while his face grows more red with embarrassment.

“I smelled it.” Derek explains with a smirk.

“So what, werewolves love sniffing out the smell paper?” Stiles questions, crossing his arms and tapping his foot. 

“Not the paper. I smelled you. Your cum.” Derek skims through the magazine for a second. “You’ve certainly had your fun with this magazine, haven’t you Stiles? Especially this page.” Derek turns the magazine to show Stiles the spreadsheet of Ridge. 

“Ridge. Is he your go to guy that gets you off the quickest?” Derek snickers. “You know, he looks a lot like me. But you know that already…don’t you?”

Stiles’ face is bright red with a slight shine of sweat on his forehead from nervousness.

“I…um no. He doesn’t look anything like you…now give me them and get off my back about it.” Stiles yells and grabs the magazines from Derek’s hand.

“So you don’t look at this guy while you jerk off?” Derek stands up and walks over to Stiles. “Tell me you don’t think about me while you do it. Tell you fantasize about me bottoming for you. Really, tell me.” Derek whispers into Stiles’ air menacingly, yet seductively. 

“I—I don’t.” Stiles chokes out.

Derek leans in towards Stiles’ ear. “Really? Because I think you do. I think you lay here on your bed every night and jerk off to the thought of me getting on my knees before taking you down my throat. I think you dream of spreading my legs only to thrust into me. I bet when you finally shoot your load, you imagine shooting it deep inside me…filling me up.”

“uh…i…um..no, I really don’t Derek.” Stiles can barely even talk as he feels Derek’s hot breaths against his neck and ear. 

“Don’t lie to me Stiles. That magazine is covered with dried cum. I smell you getting hard every time you’re around me. Right now even…” Derek lets his hand grip Stiles’ cock through the coarse fabric of jeans. He strokes it gently, taking extra time to enjoy the pounding pulsations of blood filling Stiles to completely hardness. 

“This is your chance Stiles. Tell me what you want me to do. Take charge. Demand me. Order me. Force me.” Derek whispers into Stiles ear with a sexy smirk. 

“I…I don’t know how to do this.” Stiles explains between moans as Derek grips his cock harder. 

Derek’s stifled laughter shoots into Stiles’ ear. “It’s not that hard Stiles. When you want me to do something, tell me to do it…I’ll start.” Derek unbuckles Stiles’ jeans and lowers to his knees. He shivers as the leather of Stiles’ belt brushes against his own forearm. Derek unbuttons Stiles’ jeans and unzips the fly while he mouths at the throbbing outline of Stiles. He lets the jeans fall down to Stiles’ ankles and nearly moans when he finds out Stiles isn’t boxers. 

Derek wraps his burly, calloused hand wraps around Stiles’ girth and gives it a few stimulating tugs. “Unexpected…” Derek mumbles in an intoxicated slur of lust. Derek focuses on stroking Stiles slightly harder and gladly laps up the pre-cum that leaks from the slit. 

Stiles lets his head fall back, taking in deep breaths. “Wha—what’s unexpected? No underwear?” 

“That too…but, your size…” Derek doesn’t explain any further. Instead he looks up at Stiles with a suggestive grin.

“What do you want Stiles? What do you want me to do? Tell me.” Derek asserts. 

Stiles clutches the back of Derek’s head and roughly forces himself past Derek’s lips and down Derek’s throat. He moans and hesitantly bucks forward without control. “God dammit Derek…” Stiles cries out in a breathless whisper. His fingers thread through the soft, and gelled fluff that is Derek’s hair. Derek’s stubble prickles against the sensitive skin of Stiles’ inner thigh.

With Stiles still stuffed down his throat, Derek grasps onto the teenager’s ass and urges Stiles to thrust harder into his mouth. Stiles takes the hint and begins fucking short, choked, and gagged moans out of Derek’s throat. Saliva leaks out of the corners of Derek’s lips while he continues working his wicked tongue on the cock in his mouth. 

Derek pulls Stiles out for a short moment to catch his breath and wipe the spit that has collected on his chin. He locks into a gaze with Stiles’ hazel eyes as he takes the boy back deep into his throat. Derek nibbles carefully on the slit of Stiles’ cock, teasing it, and bombarding the teen’s already weak body with unbearable pleasure.

“Fuck!” Stiles yells out and pulls out of Derek’s throat. Derek lets out a groan at the loss.

“Bed. The bed…” Stiles mutters almost incoherently with his head spinning from nearly blowing his load. 

Derek understands what Stiles is trying to say. He stands up from his kneeled down position and sits down on the bed. He kicks his shoes off, letting them fly across the room banging against the wall. Derek unbuckles his belt in a mad dash to get undressed. He pulls his tight jeans down his muscular thighs and tosses them onto a nearby chair. He repeats the action as he takes off his boxers. 

Derek lies down on his back and waits for Stiles to get on him. 

Stiles watches the werewolf undress. He notices how harmless and vulnerable Derek looks when he’s horny and ready to be fucked. Stiles steps out of his jeans that are wrapped at his ankles as he takes off his shirts. He makes his way towards Derek who is laying down on his bed. 

Stiles slithers up Derek’s steamy body, placing his knee strategically between Derek’s thighs. He takes Derek’s mouth in a lust filled embrace, letting his tongue battle intensely with Derek’s. Brief, broken groans and moans between the two fill the bedroom as Derek writhes easily beneath the whole 147 pounds of pale and gorgeously toned skin that’s on top of him.

Stiles stops the kiss, biting tastefully on Derek’s bottom lip. “Can I?” 

“Don’t ask. Just do it.” Derek orders while he brings his knees closer into his chest, exposing his hole. 

“Um..lube? I don’t have any…I mean I have lotion, but can I even use this? I didn’t buy—“ Stiles’ tongue is suddenly tied with confusion as he tries to figure what to do but Derek interrupts. 

“Use your goddamn spit and stop wasting fucking time!” Derek shouts. “Are you listening to me dammit? Spit into your hand, slick up, shove your cock up my ass, and fuck me.” Derek’s eyes flash blue with greedy ferociousness. 

Stiles wastes no time at the offer. He gathers spit his mouth before spitting it into his palm and stroking it onto his dick. He spreads Derek’s cheeks, and slides his dripping cock into the tight, hardly prepared hole.

“DAMMIT STILES!” Derek growls out and wraps his legs around Stiles’ waist with bone crushing strength. His nails scratch down Stiles’ pale back and the teen begins to move at a faster speed. 

Stiles’ arms hold him up weakly as he pounds with increasing speeds into Derek’s ass. His elbows buckle every time he feels his cock slide out and back into Derek. Derek is incredibly tight. His ass squeezes around Stiles’ cock, making the impending orgasm take a few steps closer with every thrust. 

“Fuck it harder Stiles. Fuck yeah! Move more for me.” Derek yells out, digging the heels of his sweaty feet into Stiles’ back. Derek lets out a raspy grunt with each thrust. The hot, dull sound of Stiles’ thighs meeting with Derek’s ass cheeks in each thrust echoes off the bedroom walls. 

“I’m close. I’m close” Derek repeats in a grunted growl as he squeezes Stiles’ ass encouraging the teen to buck harder and possibly deeper. “Get me off. Make me cum. Give it all, Stiles…thrust as hard as you fucking can!” Derek’s growls turn into feral roars as each thrust plows into his prostate. He hasn’t bottomed since high school, and it feels much more intense than he remembers.

Stiles delivers several powerful thrusts before Derek is dumping massive amounts of hot, viscous cum onto his contracting abdominal muscles from orgasm. Derek reaches back and claws into Stiles’ headboard in an attempt to mask his growls.

Within seconds after Derek orgasming, Stiles’ thrusts shallow as his orgasm reaches the point of no return. He pulls out of Derek and unloads onto Derek’s spent cock, balls and thighs, making a filthy and sticky mess. He carelessly rubs his cum into the hair of Derek’s thighs and smiles. 

“You…you…Stiles, damn—“ Derek rambles trying to find the right words to explain how amazing Stiles was.

Stiles’ laptop sounds a message alert. He jumps up from the bed to read the screen.

[Almost there. About 5 minutes away.] 

Stiles reads Danny’s message and begins putting his clothes back on. “Danny’s about five minutes from here. Get dressed.” Stiles smiles at Derek.

“That was amazing Derek…and how does it feel to officially be STILES’ BEYOTCH?! WOOO!” Stiles yells, throwing his arms up into the air in a triumphant cheer for himself. 

Derek sits up, still coming down from his orgasm and rolls his eyes with a sigh.“Don’t make me regret doing this…even if—“ Derek begins but Stiles cuts in.

“—Even if it felt fucking amazing!” Stiles shouts with a smile still plastered across his face. He hands Derek his pants and shoes and sits next to him on the bed taking in the smell of truly mind-blowing sex.

**Author's Note:**

> Any episodes you'd like me to "elaborate" on by writing missing scenes? Any things you want to happen?


End file.
